Wolf Girl
by Sienna Frills
Summary: From where I stood on the slated stone walkway, I could see that there were tears in the screen- like an animal had dragged its claws across it- and that the door was barely hanging by a bolt, swaying and whining as it was pushed at by a stray breeze.
1. Gaping Hole

_Wolf Girl_

* * *

**Part One**

**Genesis**

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Gaping Hole**

"What the _fuck_?" I screamed, chucking my phone across the room, where it ricocheted off the carpet and smacked the wall, going black as it fell back down onto the floor.

My little brother pounded his fist against the wall, shouting, "_Leah!_ I'm trying to do my homework!"

I spun on my heels and wrenched open my bedroom door, calling, "Tell mom I went to Sam's, and don't burn the house down," as I stalked past Seth's bedroom and stomped my way down the stairs.

Sam was only eleven and I wasn't supposed to leave him home alone, but he was mature and well-behaved and I was so furious that I didn't care at that point. So I thrust my feet into some sneakers and left the house, slamming the door behind me. Mom had the Taurus and my dad had the truck, so I jogged the mile or so to Sam's, feeling my anger flare and pulse with each fall of my feet against the concrete underneath me, replaying our argument in my head.

_Did you have a bad day? Is that what this is?_

_What is that supposed to mean?_

_I mean, I tell you I'm going to Port Angeles with Danny tomorrow and you jump down my throat?_

_We had plans for Friday._

_No we didn't, Leah._

_I made plans and I was going to tell you about them today._

_I'm sorry, but I already made plans with Danny._

_Oh, so now Danny's more important than your girlfriend?_

_Seriously. What is this about?_

_It's about you making plans on Friday._

_Leah._

_You didn't even think about me-_

_Leah, stop. Why don't you call me back when you've calmed down?_

_I don't need to calm down._

_Really, because you could have fooled me._

_You're an ass hole. _

_Because I'm not letting you use me as your human scratching post?_

_Because you're an inconsiderate jackass._

_I didn't do anything!_

_Yes you did, you made plans with Danny!_

_Don't tell me when I can and cannot make plans with my friends!_

_Don't fucking make plans when you know I had plans for us tomorrow!_

_What are you even talking about?_

_If you don't know then you _should_ spend your Friday night with Danny._

And then he had groaned right into the phone- in loud, angry frustration- and there was some kind of ripping, breaking sound, and my phone flashed, signaling that the call had ended.

Well, if he was going to hang up on me, then I would go to his house, and I would sit in his front doorway all night if I had to. He _would_ come out and talk to me. And maybe I hadn't made plans for us for Friday night, and maybe I didn't really care if he hung out with Danny or not, but I wasn't even going to admit that to _myself_ at that point- I was too stubborn and proud, too set in my actions to back down. Not to mention, I was pissed as all hell.

But when I finally approached the front door, my anger dissipated all together, because I suddenly saw that the screen door was kicked outward, hanging on one hinge, the front entrance of the house bared to the whole street. It stopped me in my tracks, my heart skittering to a gallop in my chest as I took in the damage. From where I stood on the slated stone walkway, I could see that there were tears in the screen- like an animal had dragged its claws across it- and that the door was barely hanging by a bolt, swaying and whining as it was pushed at by a stray breeze. Littered across the front porch were articles of clothing, and I thought I recognized a pair of Sam's boxers- the stupid yellow and black smiley face ones- making my heart nearly careen to a halt against my ribcage.

There was a lump in my throat the size of an orange, and when I managed to tentatively call Sam's name, it came out sounding strangled.

When I received no response goosebumps sprouted up all over my body, and I stared into the house, my eyes trying to see something other than the errant stuffing from a pillow and the pieces of a shattered vase on the inside welcome mat. I didn't see Sam though- or anyone or any_thing_ for that matter- and it pushed me forward, made me tiptoe over my boyfriend's ripped boxers and t-shirt, propelled me into the cool, quietness that waited beyond the threshold.

The house was in linear disarray. From the kitchen, where a chair was on its side, a leg snapped off, Sam's jeans ripped to patches on the tiles, his cell phone in pieces, to the unhinged front door. Whatever had happened, I knew it had been violent, and it scared me shitless. Had Sam done this when he had gotten off the phone with me? or had someone done it _to_ him?

There were scratch marks- animalistic- on the wood flooring...

With violently shaking hands, I pulled the cell phone from my pocket, fumbled with the numbers for a minute, and then managed to dial something coherent.

* * *

"We have officers patrolling the town right now- asking around and going door-to-door," the Chief of Police and one of my father's best friends, Charlie Swan, told us. "We'll see if anything turns up and then we'll go from there."

I pulled the tip of my thumb out of my mouth- I had been gnawing on my nail- and asked, "Why should you wait to see if anything comes up? Something obviously happened here- all of his clothes are all over the place!"

Beside me, Mrs. Uley- honey-call-me-Donna- squeezed my hand, her lips clamped together.

"He might be somewhere in town," Chief Swan said. "We have to wait and see."

"And then what?" I demanded.

He looked from me, to Mrs. Uley, and then to my dad, who was sitting on my other side on the Uley's couch. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, but I can assure you that we'll do everything we can."

"Thank you, Charlie," my dad said.

Officer Swan shook his hand and then stood up across from us, saying, "I have to get going, but don't hesitate to call me- for any reason."

Absently- as if she had just realized that she was still silent- Mrs. Uley said, "Thank you, Officer Swan."

He nodded sympathetically, gave me a reassuring smile, and then followed my dad to the door, where they both went outside. From where I sat on the couch, I could see them talking on the front walkway, my dad looking concerned and Charlie looking a little stressed. Instantly, I began chewing on my thumbnail again, watching them without sound, my stomach twisting nervously. I wanted to trust Charlie- God knows my dad did- but it was so hard for me to put Sam's life, essentially, into someone else's hands.

"Why don't I make some coffee?" my mom suggested to the whole room- Mrs. Uley, the remaining officers who were still going over the damages, and myself included- and then disappeared into the kitchen without an answer.

That's my mom. When in danger, cook.

Mrs. Uley and I sat on the couch in silence, our hands still tightly twisted together, both of us shaking- even just slightly. Neither of us said anything, but the world was far from silent. The police were doing a sweep of the whole house- most of them congrugated in the living room, kitchen, and front porch, where most of the damage had been done- talking, yelling to one another, the crackle of walkie-talkies, all of it meshing into one line of sound. And it wasn't like an episode of _CSI_ or anything- they weren't taping off rooms and keeping us from touching anything- but they were going over everything they could, as best they could, though not thoroughly enough, in my opinion. The Forks Police Department wasn't horrible, but they were no NYPD either.

"It's getting late," Mrs. Uley said, and her voice sounded strange, thick and strained- and I hadn't really heard her speak since she had come home from work, demanding to know what had happened.

Outside, the sun was going down, casting shadows over the front lawn, bathing the whole street in a fading, sorbet light. It was nearly eight o'clock- four hours or so after I had found the Uleys' house in disarray- and every fifteen minutes that passed made my stomach clench more tightly.

Dad came back into the house, and after a beat he asked me, "Where's your mother?"

As if on cue, she came into the living room with a pot of coffee and about a dozen mugs. "Coffee, Donna?"

Mrs. Uley shook her head.

"Harry?"

My dad shook his head too. "No thanks."

"Boys?" she called to the officers still working in the front of the house. Gesturing to the coffee, she said, "It's hot."

As they surrounded the coffee table and took the offered coffee, my father turned to Mrs. Uley and me and said, "Leah, we should get going soon- and Donna, you're more than welcome to stay at our place for as long as you need to if you'd like."

She smiled gratefully at Dad, but said, "Thank you, Harry, but I'd rather be here tonight- in case he comes home."

He nodded understandingly, then met my eyes.

"I'm not leaving," I said, as if this much should be obvious.

"Leah-"

I cut him off, "I won't be able to sleep anyway." Then I glanced at Sam's mother and said, "I want to stay and keep Mrs. Uley company- I want to be here if he comes home too."

"Lee, I don't think that's the best-"

"Actually, Harry, I wouldn't mind," Mrs. Uley said, taking her hand from mine and putting her arm around my shoulder. "I don't want to be alone and I know Leah's just as worried as I am."

My eyes pricked at her words and I sank into her motherly warmth.

"Are you sure, Donna?" my mother interjected. "It's been a very difficult day."

"For all of us," she finished. "I'd love for Leah to spend the night."

My mom and dad exchanged a look and then he said, "If you're sure."

And it was settled.

* * *

The cops left around eleven, and my parents left a half hour later- after my mom had gone home to pick up some stuff for me and brought it back to Sam's. After that, Mrs. Uley and I had some of the spaghetti my mom made for dinner. (Read: we ate two forkfuls and then moved the rest around for almost twenty minutes.) And we didn't really speak- neither of us feeling very up to it- and it was okay that way. It wasn't awkward- Mrs. Uley was like family to me- but it was heavy. After all, both of us wanted to talk about how scared we were, about how horrible this could all turn out, about how much we loved Sam and couldn't bear to lose him, but neither of us wanted to actually _speak_ pessimistically. So there were few words.

"I'll make up the pull-out bed for you," Mrs. Uley announced after we had cleared away our dishes and were reentering the living room.

The house had been cleaned up since I had found it that afternoon, but it left an aura of unsettlement behind. There were still claw marks on the floor, the screen door was leaning against the side of the house in the back, the broken chair in the kitchen waiting to be repaired in the basement, and all of Sam's clothes had been taken down to the station to be analyzed. The house felt different without Sam there- with the extreme, obvious _absence_ of Sam- and it made me feel cold, but I knew I would have rather been in that house, feeling strange, than home, feeling far away.

Mrs. Uley pushed the coffee table out of the way and began piling up the couch's throw pillows on the La-Z-Boy that faced the TV.

"Do you want to go grab some sheets and blankets from the linen closet?" she asked, prompting me to attention.

I cleared my throat and said, "Yeah- Of course," and turned, crossing the room and ascending the stairs.

Outside of the bathroom, I grabbed two sheets, a blanket, and a spare pillow from the closet, before turning and facing Sam's bedroom door. My breath caught in my throat- as if I was surprised to find Sam's bedroom there- and I stared at it numbly. Finally, after a long moment, I quietly stepped forward and eased the door open, peeking my head inside slowly.

Everything was as it usually was- not one thing messed up or broken. It reassured me, but it also made all of my insides ache inexplicably.

"Find everything okay, Leah?" Mrs. Uley called from downstairs, and I jumped out of Sam's room- as if I had been caught committing a crime.

With a shaking voice, I called back, saying, "Yeah!" before closing the door and hurrying back downstairs.

* * *

It was long past midnight and I still wasn't asleep. Not that I really expected I would sleep that night, but it would have been a nice distraction to be unconscious. But it _was_ hard to even close my eyes for very long- not without thinking of Sam going missing, the damage I had found in the house, the lack of information that the Forks police had found since they had been called. Wild scenarios ran through my head as I stared into the near darkness of the very rooms he had been in, the claw marks in the wood floor just in sight if I shifted a certain way. Had a bear gotten inside and dragged him into the woods? Had he tried to fight it off and was killed in the process, then taken away to be devoured? It made me cringe and screw my face up in horror. I didn't want to think about why Sam's clothes had been ripped off or why the house had looked the way it did- I just wanted Sam home with me.

I was staring at the lime green light of the digital clock on the cable box when I heard the floor shift upstairs. For some stupid reason, I thought it was Sam- as if he had ripped his own clothes off and had been hiding in his closet this whole time- and listened, holding my breath, as a door opened and then closed quietly.

After a moment, Mrs. Uley crept slowly down the stairs in the pitch darkness, slipping into her shoes by the front door and reaching out for her purse carefully- as if she was afraid she was going to wake me up.

Just as she was reaching for the doorknob, I said, "Mrs. Uley."

She jumped a little, spun around and peered at me in the dark, a hand to her chest. "Leah," she said. "I thought you were asleep."

I sat up and looked at her as best I could. "No. I couldn't sleep."

Relaxing a little, her hand falling to her side, she sighed, saying, "Me either."

"Where were you going?" I asked.

She was silent for a beat, as if she was considering whether or not she should tell me. Then, she finally confessed, "I was going to drive around a little. You know- see if I could spot him... Or something."

I knew what she was thinking. _I must sound like an imbecile right now- go out looking for Sam when we have the whole Forks police department looking for him and going over the evidence. She probably thinks I'm crazy._ But I didn't think that. I understood her desire to look herself- felt the same desire myself. It was horrible sitting in the house, waiting, wanting to do something to help without being able to. And maybe it was fruitless to go out and scour the reservation and Forks myself, but Goddamnit that's what I wanted to do.

"Can I come with you?" I asked. "I can't sleep anyway and I'd be an extra set of eyes."

She paused again, clearly against the idea. Late night joy rides in which we looked for Sam were probably not what my parents had in mind when they said I could stay at Mrs. Uley's for the night. But I didn't care, and I didn't want Sam's mom to care. After all, doing what my parents would or would not like was not our top priority at that moment.

Finally, she gave in and said, "If you're sure you want to."

I sprang up and grabbed my hoodie from the arm of the couch, slipped it on over my t-shirt and sweats, shoved my feet into my sneakers, and met her at the door.

First, we worked our way over the reservation, going whereever we could go in a car, both of us peering out of the windows with determined, searching eyes. From the passenger's seat, I looked between houses, into parked cars, down every street, behind trees, everywhere. I didn't want to leave any stone unturned that I was capable of turning. Mrs. Uley did her own searching, driving slowly enough that she didn't have to pay attention to the road as she craned her neck to check every angle possible. And as we did our looking, neither of us spoke. Instead, we ignored the hum of the radio between us- the talking and the music- and concentrated on what we were doing, both of us too preoccupied and anxious to think of awkward silences or the strangeness of what we were doing.

In Forks proper, we passed a trolling cop car with a search light pointed out of the window.

"Well, at least it's not just us," Mrs. Uley said, sounding less than defeated.

"Hm," was all I said in return.

After a long beat, she spoke again, saying, "Leah, did Sam know you were coming over when you found the house the way you did?"

This caught me off guard, and I clenched my teeth together briefly, before replying. "No. We had gotten into an argument and he hung up on me, so I decided I'd come over and talk to him in person."

She was silent for a minute. "What was the argument over?" she asked. "If you don't mind my asking."

I considered this. It was about... School? Work? Oh God, I couldn't even remember. I knew it had been trivial- I knew I had instigated it because I was stressed, because he had annoyed me in the smallest way- but I couldn't remember what it was exactly. There were just too many things cluttering my brain and taking up space for me to conjure that up too.

"Honestly, I-I don't remember," I told her, hearing the shock in my own voice.

We were silent for a long stretch of minutes, both of us going back to our looking. But after that pause, Mrs. Uley's quiet, soft voice inched its way across the car.

"God, Leah, I'm scared."

It made the goosebumps cover my skin again- made me hug myself in my sweatshirt, suddenly chilled.

"I know," I said, thinking of the damaged rooms, of the foreboding feelings that had filled me up when I found the house gaping open- like a wound had been stabbed into it- and I shivered. "I'm scared too."

And I hated to admit it, but I was- I was scared out of my mind.


	2. Spirit Guides

**_Wolf Girl_**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**Spirit Guides**

My parents let me stay home from school the next day- Friday- and they didn't even protest when I stayed with Mrs. Uley all day, and all throughout the weekend. They realized we were both going crazy with worry, and that we needed each other in that respect. Without Mrs. Uley I had my mom and my dad and Seth to go home to, but they couldn't comfort me the way Mrs. Uley could- they didn't get it the way Mrs. Uley did. And without _me_ Mrs. Uley didn't have _anyone_ to comfort her. And we both desperately needed each other's comfort then, because we both understood what the other one was going through completely. We both understood the late night rides throughout town that made us feel like we were doing _something_, even if we came up with nothing but wasted gas. We could both appreciate the anxiety that took such a strong hold of you that you couldn't bother sleeping or eating or washing your hair. And I'm pretty sure we were the only people who could live with each other because of it.

But on Sunday my parents dragged me back home and told me I was going back to school the following day.

"You're kidding me, right?" I countered, facing them in the kitchen that night. "You honestly think I'm going to _school_?"

"Leah, we gave you Friday," my dad said.

My mom added, "It's your junior year."

"So _what_?" was my articulate reply.

"Leah, you need to go back," Mom said, her voice stern and strong. "Sam's mother will be going back to work tomorrow and she doesn't need you hanging around the house."

I made a sound of disgust in the back of my throat, rolling my eyes.

Dad scratched his jaw, thoughtfully saying, "You don't need to be hanging around that house anyway, Leah. It's not healthy."

I thought of my afternoons with Mrs. Uley over the weekend, both of us sitting around in silence, watching TV and flipping through magazines in a zombie-like cacoon. Also, I considered our late night search parties. In my gut, I knew that neither was very healthy, but it felt like it helped me. And if it felt like it helped me deal with the fact that Sam was missing, that was what mattered. However, that's not how my parents saw it.

"It's not _un_healthy," I replied.

"Leah," my mom said, using her explanatory mom voice. "You being over there is only going to make you think about it more- it's going to make you dwell and worry and stress-"

I cut across her, shouting, "It's been almost_ four days_! Whether I'm here or there I'm going to be freaking the hell out over it!"

They exchanged a glance.

"So why can't I freak out with Mrs. Uley?" I demanded. "She's all alone over there."

"Her sister is coming to stay with her from Sacramento," Mom said. "And Mrs. Uley's an adult, you don't need to worry about her. All you need to worry about is going to school tomorrow morning."

I screeched, "MOM!"

"Leah," my dad said, using his warning voice. "You're going to school tomorrow if I have to drag you there myself."

I shook my head emphatically and stomped out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and to my bedroom, shouting, "This is fucking ridiculous!" as I went.

My dad shouted back, "Language!"

But I ignored him and slammed my door.

* * *

Despite my determination to not go to school the following day, my parents _did_ force me. Granted, I was a half hour late, dressed in my most tattered pair of shorts, a bleach-spotted black t-shirt, and flip-flops, with my hair in a ratty ponytail, but I was there. And when I walked into my first class of the day- English- with my tardy slip in hand, I felt everyone's eyes on me, summing me up, _pitying_ me, and I wished my dad hadn't driven me to school so I could have just skipped. Because this was one of the exact reasons why I had wanted to stay home. Forks was small, and the Quileute reservation was even smaller- more tightly knit- and the cops _had_ been asking around, so Sam's disappearance wasn't a secret. And I was Sam's _girlfriend_, so I was the center of unwanted attention until Sam came back. _If_ Sam came back.

My teacher, Mr. Allen, stopped talking about _Macbeth_ and watched me as I approached the front of the room, handing him my late slip from the office. "Thank you, Miss Clearwater," he said faintly- as if afraid speaking too loudly would set me off in the wrong direction- and watched me as I turned and made my way to my seat.

"Uh- So, uh, who can tell me what the witches are saying in the passage we've just read?" Mr. Allen asked, his voice still unsteady, as if he was working really hard at holding himself back from asking me if I was okay.

A couple of hands shot up, but for the most part, people just continued staring at me.

In front of me, Olivia Fallon was practically _turned around _she was watching me so closely. I met her eyes and quietly snapped, "What?" making her and everyone else avert their eyes and pretend like they hadn't been watching me. And when I was confident that there were no longer any eyes on me, I slouched in my seat and stared ahead, not bothering to crack my binder or fret over the fact that I had left _Macbeth_ on my desk at home. Mr. Allen wouldn't ask me to participate- none of my teachers would- and I knew it. So if my parents were going to force me to go to school, I was going to do it the way I wanted.

But as I sat in my seat, staring at the back of Olivia Fallon's head, I started to think of Sam. I couldn't help it, really- he was all I had thought about since Thursday. I thought of his hair, soft black onyx. I thought of his smile, his grimace, the way he would knot his eyebrows together when he was trying to figure out whether he should be angry or not. I thought of his lips on mine, of lying with him on my bed, listening to each other breathing. I remembered conversations on the beach, talking about everything and anything, sharing the world with each other- the stupid stuff and the teeth-gritting, almost-too-difficult-to-say-out-loud stuff. Swallowing back the bile that threatened to rise in my throat, I thought of never having those moments with him again, and I bit the side of my cheek to keep from crying.

_Where are you, Sam?_ I wondered. _Why are you doing this to me?_

And then I wondered if he was responsible at all, or if his absence was someone else's doing, and it took every bit of strength I had not to fall apart at my desk.

* * *

I was sitting on our couch in the living room, pretending to watch TV and looking out the window in intervals, when Seth was dropped off from soccer practice by his carpool. Neither of our parents were home yet and I hadn't moved from the couch since getting home from school- hadn't even eaten anything or taken off my shoes- and I suddenly felt like I should do something productive for my brother's sake. Despite this thought though, I couldn't bring myself to actually get up, so I continued staring blindly at the Food Network even as Seth opened the front door and loudly dropped his backpack on the floor. And when he saw me sitting there- zombie girl- he grew quieter and gently took his shoes off, eyeing me warily as he did this. It made me want to cry- the fact that my little brother thought he had to tiptoe around me- and I suddenly felt a hundred times more tired than when I had started the day.

"Hey Leah," he said quietly, walking hesitantly over to the couch.

I looked over at him and tried to muster a smile. "What's up?"

He shrugged, scratching his ankle with a socked toe.

I glanced at the TV- at Rachel Ray's overly chipper banter- and I asked, "Want to watch the Food Network?"

Forgetting that he was being careful, he gave me a dramatically disgusted look at this prospect and I actually laughed. Clamping my mouth shut quickly, I offered him the remote and he looked at me as if I had twelve heads- since we usually had to wrestle for the remote.

"I'm not really watching it," I explained. "You can put on whatever you want."

"Really?" he asked, tentatively reaching for the remote.

I nodded and he took it, settling on the floor in front of the couch, flicking to Spongebob Squarepants and settling in happily. And watching him like that made me realize that Sam's disappearance had no real effect on my little brother's world. Sure, Sam was like an older brother to him and they were pretty close, but Seth was only eleven, and I don't think he could really connect what was happening. All he knew for sure was that Sam was gone and his big sister was falling apart- giving him the remote and fighting with our parents more than ever before. To Seth, Sam would return, because in Seth's mind, the world was kind and bad things only happened in movies and on the news. But I was older and I was realistic, and I knew this could be bad- I knew this was already bad- and an episode of Spongebob could not fix that. I needed more than bright, cartoonish colors and funny voices to make me happy then.

I jumped in my seat- as if someone had suddenly screamed in my ear- when the phone rang from the kitchen, and then subsequently leapt up and all but ripped it from the cradle without checking the caller I.D.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly, hoping for Sam, for Mrs. Uley, for the cops- anyone who could give me some new information.

But it wasn't any of the voices I hoped for on the other line, though the voice I did hear wasn't entirely unwelcome. "Leah, hey!" my cousin Emily said. "Are you okay?"

Of course Emily could hear the distress in my voice from just one word.

I paused. She didn't know what had happened- she lived almost two hours away and I hadn't called her since before Thursday so she didn't know about Sam. Shakily, I sat down at the kitchen table and said, "Oh God, Em, no."

"What happened?" she asked urgently, her voice dripping with the most sincere concern I had ever heard. "What's up?"

I wished Emily was in the room with me. I wished she could wrap me up in a sisterly embrace, brush my hair, and be the one to rebuild my walls. That was the way Emily and I always were. I was the one always falling apart- whether it was in anger or sadness or impetuousness- and she was the strong one, the rational one, the one who apologized to strangers for my rudeness, the one who fixed me up without ever making me explain, and I desperately needed her at that moment.

Swallowing hard, I said, "It's Sam."

"Sam?" she echoed. "What happened with Sam?"

I couldn't bring myself to say it, and I sat with the phone pressed to my ear, my throat so tight I was sure I would suffocate.

"Leah?"

It came out as a whisper. "He's missing. I went over and found the house all messed up- with claw marks and broken-" I cut myself off. "His clothes were ripped and they were on the floor and they can't find him." My voice hitched in my throat as I spoke, and my eyes were beginning to burn. I quickly put my hand over my mouth to suppress any noise that might escape, and I listened to make sure Seth was still watching his cartoons, which he was.

"Oh my God," Emily said softly. "When did this happen? Are you okay?"

"Thursday," I replied. "I'm- I'm not," was all I could manage.

She asked, "And they haven't found anything since then?"

I shook my head even though she couldn't see me. "Nothing."

"Do you- Do you think it was an animal or something?" she asked carefully.

I thought of my bear theory- of Sam's mutilated body in the woods- and I suddenly wondered if they had checked there. "I don't know," I told her, feeling more and more desperate as each minute passed.

"Do you need anything?" she asked worriedly. "Is there anything I can do?"

Pressing my lips together for a moment, I said, "No I don't think there's anything, but thanks."

"I love you, Lee," she told me, every bit the sister I never had. "I'm here if you need anything."

I tried to smile but I couldn't, and for a moment I was glad we were talking over the phone so she couldn't see me. "Thanks, Em, I love you too."

"Hey," she said, as if she just had an idea. "Pray to your wolf- she'll look out for Sam for you."

This actually made me smile a little and I said, "It couldn't hurt." And then I heard Mom's car in the driveway, so I said, "Hey, my mom's home so I gotta go, but I'll talk to you later?"

"Of course," she replied. "Call me if you need anything- anytime."

I smiled sadly and said, "I will, thanks," and we hung up.

* * *

The Quileutes have this belief- though it's obviously not as widely practiced as it used to be- that everyone has their own guardian. Though there are people who say their guardians are ancestors or pets that have passed away, most people pick an animal, immortalize it in their mind, and pray to it. And while there are a lot of people on the reservation who are aware of this belief- and many who have chosen a spirit guide and guardian of their own- it is rare to find someone who is as hardcore about it as our anscestors used to be. A lot of people just treat it the way some people treat God. They have these ideas in the back of their mind- not dismissed but not at the front either- and they embrace them whole-heartedly when they need something. Like, I can't tell you how many times people on the reservation have resurrected their spirit guide belief in times of a family illness or national disaster.

But there _are_ people who are steadfast with their beliefs, and my father was one of them.

His spirit guide was a deep, gleaming chestnut horse that had black hair and wise, dark eyes. He often told me that the stallion was impressive and strong, and that he would be an idiot not to listen to such a creature. Though, I always thought it was kind of funny that he thought the horse was so majestic and sacred, but familiar enough for my dad to name him. He referred to him as Chief- as in, 'Chief helped me find your mother, I know it,' or 'What am I supposed to do, Chief, help me out here.' He treated that phantom horse like it was a member of the family- his personal guidance counselor- and so I've known about spirit guides ever since I was little.

"Lee-lee," my dad would say to me when I was restless or bored, getting my attention and sitting me down on his knee. "Do you want to hear about the time I found Chief?"

I was little and my dad shared the center of my universe with my mom, so I nodded eagerly, held onto the hand-carved circular wooden pendant around his neck- the one with the horse carved into it in the familiar Pacific northwestern Native American style- and waited patiently.

"Well, see, it happened right around here," he would tell me, his baritone rumbling as I leaned against his chest, looking at the pendant in my little hands. "I was fifteen years old and I was headstrong."

I undoubtedly asked, "What's headstrong?"

Dad paused, then said, "Headstrong is when you don't listen to what anyone else says- when you think you're the best and you're the only one that's right in the world." I was too young to know that I would inherit this adolescent trait from my dad, but I was satisfied with his answer, so I sat back and waited for more. He'd continue, saying, "I was a teenager and I was headstrong, so I thought I could handle a hike through the woods. Alone."

My eyes always widened at this, and I would look at him like he had just committed sacrilege. Seth and I had grown up in the woods- going on hikes and learning about the natural environment and how we could appreciate it- but we had always been taught to never go in them alone. Our parents explained to us that there was always a chance we could get lost if we didn't know the woods well enough, that there were wild animals in there, that people hunted in there- all the real reasons to stay away, all the real dangers that threatened us. So we always understood, and when Dad told me he went into the woods alone when he was fifteen I was shocked.

He would nod at my suprise, say, "I was stupid," and it would make me giggle. "And I learned from my mistake. Do you know how?"

"You got lost," I replied.

He nodded. "I got lost in the thick of the woods, and the more I looked for a way out, the farther into the forest I went," he said. "And by the time the moon was out and the trees were dark, I was tired and hungry and terrified."

"Because of the dark," I prompted.

"Yes," he would reply. "And in the darkness I could hear all kinds of noises- paws coming down on the forest floor, noses sniffing out their dinner- and I could see shapes moving in the distance, weaving in and out of the trees."

I would shiver upon hearing this, thinking of my woods, cloaked in darkness, threatening me with foreboding silhouettes.

Dad would continue, saying, "So, I climbed a great, big, moss-covered tree and sat in his arms all night."

"Did you sleep?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I was too scared to sleep- afraid that a bear might climb up and get to me."

"You stayed up there all night?" I would ask, incredulous.

"I did," he said. "And by the time the first light of morning broke, I knew I had been wrong- knew that I was no longer the headstrong boy I went in as- and I wanted to go home. But I couldn't find my way out for two more days and I had to survive on only the running water I could find."

This would shock me further and I would ask, "You didn't eat for two whole days?"

He would shake his head. "I didn't know what to do out there- didn't know what I could eat or what would kill me," he said. "Your dad has learned a lot about the forest since then though, huh?"

I smiled and nodded emphatically then, because he always told us about what berries were edible, which ones we had to vomit up right away if we ingested them by accident, how to collect rain water, how to start a fire with only rocks, leaves, and kindling, or how to improvise a tent if you needed immediate shelter. He had come a long way from wandering the woods with nothing but the water from a brook to sustain him.

"It was on my last day in the woods," he continued, getting to the good part, "when I was weak with hunger and so very tired, that I considered giving up and letting myself go hungry."

Upon hearing this I gripped the pendant more tightly, leaning closer to him to make sure he was really there- because the thought of my father giving up and dying in the woods, even though I knew that's not how the story ended, frightened me.

His eyes would go misty and he would look at a spot across the room- as if he was watching something that only he could see- and he would say, "And I laid down among the ferns and the moss, staring up at the green canopy overhead, and the world started to spin." He blinked a couple of times, then continued, saying, "It was my hunger and my loss of hope that made me so dizzy, and then I heard him, the strong, encouraging sound of slow hoof-beats, and I looked up and I'm sure I saw him standing there- the most beautiful and powerful stallion I had ever seen." He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe it. "Sun was streaming through the branches overhead and he was gleaming, red and black, and I was mesmerized. Part of me knew, of course, that he wasn't real- that I was just imagining him- but I knew he was my spirit guide at that moment, and I followed his lead out of the forest."

I stared at him in awe and silence then, running my thumb over the grooves in the pendant.

"He saved my life that day," Dad said, looking back at me with warm, dark eyes. "And I know I had to get lost and lose my headstrong attitude for him to find me, but I'm glad he did."

"Do you think I have a spirit guide, Daddy?" I asked, looking at the pendant around his neck.

He smoothed my hair down and said, "I'm certain you do, Lee-lee, you just gotta let her find you."

And she did find me, one day on the beach in Neah Bay, when Emily and I were considering what our guardians would be. I thought immediately of a wolf, the animal that the Quileute legend said we had descended from, and I saw her. She was beautiful and powerful, standing in the forefront of my mind, white with dark gray and black markings, staring at me with clear, golden-white eyes. I didn't name her- didn't feel I had any right to- but I did tell Emily that my guide was a wolf, no questions asked.

Emily then chose an otter, and we went on to pretend we were going on quests on the beach, where our guardians gave us mystical directions and saved us from danger. And all the while, I felt like my wolf was watching, as if she was amused by our antics but not at all opposed to them. After that, I didn't think much of my spirit guide except in certain situations- when Seth got lost in Seattle on a field trip and we couldn't find him until later that night, when Grampa Gill died, when I went into high school, when I got caught in a riptide during sophomore year- and she never abandoned me. Even in the worst of those situations I had managed to find strength, and I wouldn't admit it, but I felt she was the reason.

That's why that Monday, after talking to Emily, I got out of bed in the middle of the night, put on a sweatshirt over my tank-top and flannel pajama bottoms, slipped on my dad's rain boots, and snuck out of the house.

I had long ago stopped listening to my parents' don't-go-into-the-woods-alone warning- especially since they had taught Seth and I everything they knew about navigation and survival- so I didn't hesitate as I ducked between the trees in the darkness, plunging into the forest at a rainboot-thunking run.

I ran through the trees as fast as I could, into the thick of the forest, thinking- strangely- of my father and his journey into the woods when he was fifteen. Plowing past low branches and soft, hanging fingers of moss, I imagined my dad's spirit guide- huge and red- appearing amid all the greenery around me, scolding me with his eyes, as if doing my sleeping father's bidding. But I pushed the thought out of my mind, because I had no room for guilt or conscience at that moment- I was too busy being driven by a detached hysteria that I couldn't escape. So I ran and ran, until my lungs were burning, my breath wheezing in and out angrily- until the stitch behind my ribcage grew so bad that I had to stop because I was doubling over in pain. And as I swayed in the middle of the forest, clutching at my torso and breathing like an old dog, I realized how quiet the forest was around me, how I couldn't see a single house or light through the vast diameter of trees.

The moon was almost full over the forest, and some light managed to filter in through the thick canopy overhead. But even with the light of the moon, I couldn't see anything but trees and darkness around me, and I realized then that it didn't scare me- I wasn't even worried about how I was going to get out of the forest. Instead, I was relieved and hopeful, because it was the perfect setting for me to call on my spirit guide.

But as I stood in the middle of the woods, alone in the dark, I suddenly felt foolish. I wasn't like my father- wasn't deeply entrenched in my Quileute roots, didn't govern the reservation because I was supremely awesome- and I wasn't good at asking for help, let alone asking for help from a spirit that I wasn't even sure existed.

Clenching the bottoms of my sleeves in my palms, I turned in a circle, looking at the trees around me, as if asking them for some kind of clue. When I didn't receive a hint of any kind, I muttered under my breath, "Come on."

The wind rustled through the trees, muted and gentle, but I didn't receive any other acknowledgement of my desperation.

"Come on, spirit guide," I said, speaking at a normal level as I turned my head from one direction to the next. "I need you."

Quietness answered me in return. There wasn't even the sound of an owl or a squirrel in the underbrush.

For some reason, this pissed me off. I mean, my dad always talked about how great his spirit guide was- how Chief helped him find my mom or how the frickin' horse helped him avoid bad accidents on the freeway- so where the hell was my wolf? Was it because she hadn't come to me at a near-death experience? Is it because I chose her myself? Was it because I wasn't as Quileute as my dad was? Well, who were these spirits to judge and decide for me? I had just as much right as any to get help from a spirit guide- particularly when I desperately needed help of any kind.

"Would you just help me?" I shouted into the air above my head.

An animal skittered under the leaves a few feet away, and I felt the smallest relief from getting some kind of reaction.

When I shouted again it was even louder, and I said, "I don't know what else I'm supposed to do! My boyfriend's missing and everything's a fucking mess!" I shook my head to myself, feeling the relief in screaming and getting everything out, rather than getting any kind of reaction to it. "You're supposed to be my spirit guide!" I screamed, feeling the stitch in my side prick again. "I'm in my goddamn hour of need and you've decided I'm not worth your time!"

I realized that I was talking to no one, screaming my head off and stomping my feet like a lunatic, but I honestly didn't care. I had been quietly simmering all weekend, and it felt amazing to scream- to get out everything I was feeling- without anyone being there to judge or pity me.

"Well I don't give a shit what you think about _me_," I shouted, my voice catching in the carpeting of moss around me. "Just- Just take care of him."

My throat tightened and I felt the tears prick behind my eyes, and I tried to swallow it down, but my jaw was shaking and I was crying before I could stop myself.

I yelled, "He's good and he's sweet and I need him!" and my voice cracked on the sob that came up my throat. "I need him and you need to bring him home! Do you hear me, spirit guide? Don't you dare fucking let me down when I need you most! Don't you dare let anything bad happen to Sam!"

And before I could stop myself, my legs were shaking underneath me, and I was on my knees on the forest floor.

"Please bring him home," I cried softly in the darkness, unable to care how sad and weak it was.

And I wasn't sure if my wolf was there or not, whether she cared about Sam and me, or whether anyone could hear my cries, but that didn't stop me from crying out anyway.

"Please," I whispered to the ground, feeling my heart wrenching with the desperation I felt. "_Please_."


	3. Making Deals with Cops

_**Wolf Girl**_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**Making Deals with Cops**

With a casserole and homemade ice cream in hand, my mom forced her way into the Uley household on Tuesday night. I don't know if she noticed the fact that neither Mrs. Uley nor I looked like we were up for the dinner that she wanted, but that didn't stop her. Circles under the eyes and slouching postures meant nothing to my mom when she thought she was doing right. Of course, if she knew I had spent my night having a nervous break down in the woods she probably would have behaved differently, but I kept that to myself, so it was irrelevant. And so, she hauled my dad, Seth, and me into the house, kicked Mrs. Uley out of the kitchen, and had us all sit around in the living room while she and Regina set up for dinner.

Regina- Mrs. Uley's sister who I had only met a handful of times- noticed right away that we were all sitting there silently, looking a little dejected, so she suggested, "I have a pack of cards in my purse- You guys want to play a round of Go Fish or something?"

I imagined Sam sitting next to me, an arm casually slung behind me on the couch, laughing and rolling his eyes good-naturedly and saying, "Come on, Aunt Reg- _Go Fish_?" and she would laugh at his teasing her- because no matter what Sam did everyone loved him- and he would make everyone play anyway.

"Yeah," Dad nodded, trying to sound enthusiastic. "That sounds like fun."

Regina went to fetch the cards from her bag in the guest room, and as she went upstairs I gave my dad a look that clearly asked if he was out of his mind. Beside me on the couch, he nudged me with his elbow, and I rolled my eyes- not so good-naturedly as Sam would have.

"I wanna deal," Seth declared when Regina handed us the cards with a smile, before leaving us for the kitchen.

I marveled at my brother's elasticity and ignorant oblivion, taking the cards as he dealt them out on the coffee table.

"Youngest goes first," Dad said as soon as the cards had been arranged properly. "Seth?"

Seth turned to me- on his left- and said, "Got any fives?"

"Go fish," I said, feeling extremely perverse. Sam was missing, possibly hurt or dying, and we were playing _Go Fish_? Glancing at Mrs. Uley as Seth picked up a new card from the pile, I wondered if she was feeling as weird about this thing as I was.

"Lee," Seth prompted. "Your turn."

Straightening up slightly, I turned to my dad and said, "Got any queens?"

He made a mock attempt at being angry at me and then handed one over. I paired it with my queen of hearts and put them aside, feeling as if I was in some kind of bad dream.

"Dinner!" Mom called from the kitchen, just as a loud, authoritive knock sounded at the front of the house.

The room went completely silent as everyone looked to the front door. For a moment, I thought it was Sam, but then, clenching my cards in my hands, I realized that he wouldn't knock. Was it a cop then? I wondered. Was Chief Swan coming over to tell Mrs. Uley that they had found Sam's body?

I shook the thought away as Mrs. Uley stood, dropping her cards to the coffee table. Absently, I noticed that she had one pair of threes and one of jacks among the cards.

With Mrs. Uley opening the door, everyone- including Regina and my mother, who were standing in the doorway to the living room- watched as Chief Swan and another man, Officer Tate, came into view on the porch.

My heart started pounding in my throat and I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the words that were reverberating in my brain.

_We're so sorry Mrs. Uley... His body was found..._

"Charlie," my father said, placing his cards on the table as he stood up and went to Mrs. Uley's side.

"Hi there, Harry," Chief Swan said. "Mrs. Uley." He glanced at all of us staring at him from our positions in the living room, and said, "I'm sorry to interrupt your evening."

Mrs. Uley didn't seem to be capable of speaking anytime soon, so Dad said, "That's all right, Charlie. Come on in."

Charlie glanced at Mrs. Uley- as if for reassurance- before stepping inside the house with Officer Tate. Their figures were both strange and imposing in the living room- sticking out boldly in their uniforms, stark against the backdrop of the Uley home- and they looked around awkwardly, hardly meeting our eyes. And they didn't speak. We waited for the most unbearable stretch of a moment, but no one spoke. It drove me nuts. I could hear the oven fan whirring in the kitchen, and it practically frayed my nerves to pieces. Squeezing my cards in my hands- practically bending them in half- I glared at Charlie, willing him to speak.

Finally, after the two policemen had exchanged a glance, Charlie turned to Mrs. Uley- who was still standing near the front door. "First off, I just want to say that I don't want to get you too excited or too upset," he said. "Because what I'm about to tell you doesn't necessarily mean anything- but it might."

The cards were close to distruction and Seth knew it, because he deftly pried open my fingers and took them out of my hands. I didn't even spare him a glance, just grabbed his empty hand in mine and held onto it tightly.

"What is it, Charlie?" Dad asked.

Charlie looked around the room, and his eyes met mine for half a second, before he turned to Dad- the only person he probably felt safe speaking to- and said, "We found some disturbances near the perimeter of the woods behind the house- tracks, broken branches, dented bushes."

I clenched Seth's hand so hard he let out an involuntary- and mostly silent- yip, otherwise allowing me to abuse him.

"It could mean nothing," Charlie continued, looking at all of us around the room. "It's hard to tell when it happened- if it was from Thursday or yesterday morning- but there are indications that the tracks are coming from the house- they're pretty visible since the grass is muddy in the front yard."

"So what does that mean?" I heard myself asking, my voice hard and flinty.

Charlie hesitated. "We're not sure yet. It probably means that an animal caused the damage to the house- particularly with the scratches on the floor-"

"What kind of animal?" Mrs. Uley interjected next, springing to life right after I had.

Officer Tate and Charlie glanced at each other before Charlie said, "They look like maybe a dog's footprints- maybe a wolf or a coyote."

My blood ran cold and I shivered.

"Do you think some kind of dog came in here and dragged Sam from the house?" Mrs. Uley asked, her voice shaking. "What kind of wolf or coyote could break into a house and drag a full-grown boy into the woods?"

"Like I said, the tracks might be misleading- we need to do a little more research," Charlie replied.

I was on the edge of my seat when I said, "Do you have people in the woods right now?"

Officer Tate said, "We have a team of men out there-"

"Did you call the forest ranger?" Mrs. Uley asked.

"We're waiting to see if the boys can find anything-"

"You could cover more ground if you had the forest rangers helping you," I reminded them fiercely, letting go of Seth's hand to stand beside my dad and stare Charlie Swan square in the eye. "Why didn't you call the forest ranger on Thursday? Wouldn't that have made more sense?" I demanded.

"Leah," Dad said under his breath, warning me.

I ignored him.

"Well we're trying to see what we can find before we take each step," Charlie explained.

This made me shake my head. "But what if something happens to Sam before you decide to_ take your next step_?" I asked, my voice hard and heavy.

"Leah," Mom said from the doorway of the dining room. "Honey, they're doing all they can-"

"Not if they're not calling the forest rangers right away!"

"What about the cops from the next county?" Mrs. Uley suggested. "Have you called them?"

"We really are doing all we can do-"

I cut across him again, saying, "Call the forest rangers- call the _state troopers_!- then you'll be doing all you can do!"

"We'll call in the forest ranger if our team finds any further evidence of this dog or Sam in the woods-"

"That's bullshit!" I shouted, making both my parents sternly say my name. I ignored them, saying, "That's absolute bullshit, Charlie," and I pushed past them, into the golden autumn evening outside, and slammed the door shut behind me.

_Fuck you, spirit guide_, I thought to myself. _Fuck you._

* * *

When I got home I realized I hadn't brought my key with me, so I sat on the porch and watched as the sun set over the trees, setting the sky ablaze. I grabbed at the bottoms of my jeans in my fists, squeezing the denim with my jaw set. Embarassament swirled behind my eyes, mixed with red-hot anger, anxiety- a mad frenzy of lost feelings. I felt untethered, like I could fly away at any minute- like every string holding my life down had been untied and there was nothing to anchor me to this world anymore. And I knew it was no excuse for me to lash out at Charlie, but I couldn't help it. It was so hard sitting back and watching other people trying to put my life back together- watching people being so calm and collected about Sam's disappearance, even if it was their job. Nothing made sense and it was like every last atom of sanity and composure was slipping away from me so fast that I couldn't help but lose it.

I knew my parents were going to kill me. My dad would not tolerate me cursing at and disrespecting his best friend- let alone the chief of police- and he would make me apologize. It made my face burn just thinking about it- about me screaming 'bullshit!' into Charlie Swan's face as Sam's mother and aunt looked on. God, I could run my mouth off sometimes.

I seriously considered running when I saw my dad walking down the street toward our house about a half hour later. He didn't look murderous or anything, but he certainly didn't look happy, and I wasn't sure if I had the energy to be aware of how much I disappointed him. I didn't have the energy to run either though, so I just stayed where I was, running my hands through my hair and rubbing my face anxiously. Suddenly, I felt intolerably restless.

"You mind explaining to me why you just disrespected the chief of police when he's trying to find your boyfriend?" Dad asked when he stood before me on the front walkway.

I was still covering my face by nervously screwing with my hair when I groaned and said, "Dad! Please."

"No, Leah," he countered. "Your mother and I raised you better than that."

Moving my hands away from my face, I just stared at him.

"You're lucky Charlie is so understanding," he said to me, his eyes speaking the volumes he kept out of his voice.

I didn't say anything, just looked at the grass in the front yard.

After a beat Dad said, "You're going to apologize to him, Leah."

Even though I had known this was coming, I stared at him as if I detested his request.

"He'll be here in a few minutes," he told me. "I told him to come over once I had gotten a chance to speak with you."

"Well that was presumptuous of you," I replied. "Who says I'm going to apologize?"

My dad gave me a stern, angry look, and tiredly sat down beside me on the steps. "Leah," he said, "I understand this is hard for you, and I'm not saying you don't deserve some leeway here, but you have no right to mistreat people like you mistreated Charlie."

I leaned against my knees and rubbed my eyes with the heals of my hands.

"He's been my friend for a long time, and he's only ever been good to us," he told me, his weathered old baritone reverberating through me. "He's doing what he can to find Sam and you have to understand that it isn't easy."

Considering this, I wondered what I would do if it was solely up to me to find Sam. Where would I even begin to look? I had no resources and no help, and while Charlie had the Forks police, I knew they were limited too. Was he really doing all he could- was I just making it difficult for him?

Just as the regret began to set in, I saw the cruiser turn onto our street and pull up in front of the house. Dad waved Charlie over and I ran another nervous hand through my hair.

I've never been good at apologies.

Charlie looked awkward- maybe even as uncomfortable as I felt- when he got out of the cruiser and made his way over to us. He also seemed sheepish, like he had been the one to wrong _me_, and that only made me feel worse about freaking out on him the way I had.

None of us said anything- even when Charlie was standing right in front of us- so I glanced at my dad, nervous. He gave me this look, just with his eyes, as if to say, 'You're sleeping outside if you screw with me.'

"Chief Swan," I began, and I immediately felt strange. I had grown up always calling Charlie by his first name, and I suddenly felt like I was facing some kind of strange, foreign Indian chief, to apologize or get my ass beat. Clearing my throat, I began again, saying, "Charlie, I'm really sorry about what I said earlier- at the Uley's."

Charlie glanced at my dad before looking back to me. Dad cleared his throat slightly, as if waiting for me to continue, so Charlie didn't speak right away.

I continued, saying, "I know you're doing all you can to find Sam, and I'm sorry that I took my stress out on you."

I almost bit back the last statement but, instead, followed through with it. The worst part of apologizing to people for me was admitting that I was wrong in any way, or that I regretted something I had done. Like my father had been when he was young, I was stubborn and arrogant, and it took the jaws of life for me to turn my back on myself. Even if I knew, in my gut, that I was wrong, my stubbornness usually won out. But with Charlie I knew my dad wouldn't let me get away with a half-assed apology, so I dug really deep for him.

Charlie must have known that, because he quickly waved it off, saying, "I know how it is, Leah- You're not going through an easy time."

I looked at the gravel walkway underneath his feet, nodding subtly.

"And maybe you're right," he continued. "Maybe we should have gone out into the woods sooner or-"

"So you'll send out the forest ranger?" I asked, my head snapping up to meet his eyes hopefully.

Dad was immediately there to scold me, saying, "Leah!"

Charlie considered this for a moment, before he seemed to give in a little. "Here's what we'll do," he said. "I know you and Mrs. Uley won't leave me alone on this one, so I promise I will call the forest ranger if nothing turns up by Wednesday."

Beside me, Dad let out a breath, as if he wasn't happy with the way Charlie was appeasing me, but I didn't care.

"Deal?"

It was better than nothing so I managed a smile and a nod and said, "Deal."


	4. Reservation Kids

_Wolf Girl_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter Four**

**Reservation Kids**

Shadows stretched across the wall, morphing into monsters with the light of the moon. I saw them through blurred eyes, unsure of whether I was awake or not, much too tired to care. I was somewhat aware of the fact that I felt hot and uncomfortable, but not enough for me to consciously do anything about it. Sweat was gathered in my armpits and behind my legs, and I kicked off my blankets without even realizing it. The movement brought on the phantom sound of a wolf growling, snapping, biting, and I flinched violently in bed. On the cusp of a nightmare-riddled sleep and consciousness, I imagined my wolf spirit guide in Sam's yard, sniffing around the Uley house while Sam and I argued on the phone. I saw her clawing through the door and dragging him outside, into the woods, with the kind of strength only a spirit could have. I saw him fighting her- this unbelievably beautiful and vicious dog- and I saw her winning, and it startled me so much that I jumped in bed, waking myself up completely.

Around me, the house was quiet. Silver-gray shadows still danced and writhed on the wall, and looking at them gave me a strange sense of deja vu. Next to me, the clock read two-thirty. The room was dark, though I knew I had fallen asleep at around nine with the lights on. Also, the sheets were twisted around my ankles, as if I had kicked them off of me in my sleep, though I was sure I had never gotten under the covers.

Disoriented, inexplicably anxious, and clammy with cooling sweat, I got out of bed and dragged myself across the room, throwing open the window and taking in a deep breath of damp, clean air. It made me feel a little better, but it also made me aware of how fast my heart was beating- of how quickly I felt my blood running through my body, making me shake with adrenaline. Turning and looking over my dark room, I wished everyone was awake and that the house was alive- I wished I didn't feel so alone and afraid for no reason.

After a moment of staring listlessly out the window, I got up and left, moving down the hall to Seth's room. I opened the door without knocking and peeked my head inside.

He was asleep in his bed, his little eleven year old body pulled into a ball as he lay their silently. I didn't bother calling his name or waking him up, I just stepped quietly into the room, eased the door shut behind me, and gently situated myself beside him on his bed. He mumbled incoherently as my weight shifted the mattress, and he turned slightly. I waited until he was quiet to pull the blanket over my own body and settle into the bed.

I was laying there for several minutes, staring at the ceiling and trying to calm my own anxious heart, when Seth's quiet voice sounded beside me. "Leah?" he whispered.

Looking over, I smiled a little sheepishly at him. "Hi."

"What are you doing?" he asked sleepily, looking at me through heavy lids.

I shrugged faintly, saying, "I didn't want to be alone."

"Because you miss Sam?" he asked me.

I nodded, feeling my throat tighten involuntarily.

"Are you scared?" he wanted to know, sounding a little more awake.

Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I tried to breathe through flared nostrils before I said, "Yeah. I am."

He looked monumentally sorry- as if Sam's disappearance was his own fault- and he said, "He'll come back, Leah- You know he will."

"I _don't_ know that though," I whispered fiercely, my eyes burning in the dark. "That's what scares me. Things always end happily ever after in books and movies, Seth, but this is real life- what if it doesn't end that way?"

"I dunno, Lee," he said after a long beat. "You just have to hope it does, I guess."

I watched Seth for a moment, finding it so impossible to believe the unfailing optimism of an eleven year old, and I nodded.

"I don't mind if you sleep in here tonight," he said softly. "But don't hog all the covers, or you're sleeping on the floor."

Somehow, I smiled, and I realized that I wasn't shaking anymore. "Thanks, kid," I said.

And we fell asleep in no time.

* * *

Sam and I had always been together. We spent our childhoods splashing in and out of backyard kiddie pools and catching fireflies while our moms watched us from patio sets. We spent our earliest years playing 'cowboys and Indians' at barbecues and 'house' at grown-up parties. It was me, and about six or seven other reservation kids, who were with a six-year-old Sam on a nature walk led by my dad, when Joshua Uley suddenly packed up and left La Push. Mrs. Uley and Sam were the ones who brought me to the hospital to meet Seth when he was first born. And as we got older these things stuck us together, intertwined all of us reservation kids as a weirdly connected group. And even though our games of pretend changed to games of manhunt and spin-the-bottle, we were always friends and we were always together. There was no nonsense about cooties- no boy-girl adversity whatsoever. We had fun together- with the rest of the kids our age that lived on the reservation- and we were always there for each other, and that was all that mattered.

Sam went to high school before me though- because I had been held back in first grade for my refusal to even try and read- and things changed. He started hanging out with the guys more- boys we had always known, and guys he met at school- and he also started focusing more on girls as _girlfriends_. So I was stuck with the remaining reservation kids- particularly girls still in eighth grade who I could never really relate to anyway, with their Barbies and their miniature nail polish bottles- until I, too, became a freshman. Then I had gym with Sam and we reconnected over our competitiveness for gym volleyball, and we started hanging out more- meeting up with everyone else to 'do homework,' sitting together at lunch, going to football games, and it was like there had never even been that gap in our relationship.

It was in Decemeber that I realized I had feelings for Sam that weren't just friendly. I suddenly cared about what I looked like and what I was wearing when I hung out with him, and I was careful about what I said and how I had said it, and I actually cared if I looked _cute_, and only when I stepped away from him did I manage to ask myself when I had become _that_ _girl_. And I didn't want to be the giggly, flirty type, so I worked really hard at being myself, and doing the same things as usual. Never in a million years did I consider acting on my feelings toward him, because Sam was popular and good-looking and everyone loved him. So, why would he be interested in the advances of one, snarky, stubborn, and unruly, Leah Clearwater, who he had known since the days of diapers and universal shirtlessness?

It got to a point where I liked him so much that I often wallowed in my own self-pity- the kind that comes with unrequited love. And I was doing just this- having walked off from a rowdy New Year's party, deciding instead to sit in the backyard on a creaky old swingset, being dramatically mopey- when Sam came outside.

His figure stretched across the dark back lawn as the lights from the house lit him up from behind, and I watched in anticipation as he approached me.

"Hey," he said, stopping a yard or so away from me, smiling amiably. "Mind if I swing with you?"

I shook my head, saying, "Go ahead," and trying to seem casual as he situated himself in the swing, a foot and a half away from me.

We sat in silence for what felt like forever- seconds dragged out into an excruciating minute- before Sam said, "Do you remember when my dad left?"

This was probably the last thing I had expected Sam to say, so I knitted my eyebrows and looked at him. "Yeah," I said, the word coming out as more of a question than as confirmation, with a little puff of steam on the cold air as punctuation.

"I don't know if you remember this, but I distinctly remember the way you treated me after that," he said, swinging lightly, watching shadows moving behind the curtains in the dining room window. "You acted like I was going to break- like everyone had told you to be careful around me and watch what you said."

I was so baffled by this speech that all I could manage to do was stare at him.

He looked at me then, as if he was trying to figure me out, and he said, "But you also seemed like you didn't want to treat me that way- like you just wanted things to go back to the way they were, but you just couldn't."

I waited for the punchline, or the moral of the story, but he offered none. Instead, we sat in silence for a long beat, staring at each other strangely, trying to figure the other person out.

Finally, Sam said, "You're doing that again."

"What?" I blurted out, because I was so confused.

"You're acting different around me- all careful with what you do and say- but you're also acting like you don't want to..." he trailed off. "Why are you doing it?"

This rendered me speechless. I had no idea that Sam had noticed that things had changed- I thought I had been so careful to act normally, but he could even see through that. It amazed and confused me. In response, all I could do was shake my head dumbly.

Sam looked away from me and sighed, his words coming out in little puffs of steam. Without looking my way, he said, "I miss you, Leah."

Finding my voice, I said, "I'm right here."

He shook his head and met my eyes, saying, "I miss the real you- the one who's straight-up with me."

"I-" I cut myself off and looked up at the sky. "I don't know."

"Leah, tell me what's up," he said, standing and moving so that he was in front of me, staring down at me.

I looked at him, startled, and said, "Nothing's-"

"Come on," he urged, actually seeming impatient with my lies.

There was something about Sam that managed to drag the truth out of me- that made me want to be honest and good, the same thing about him that made everyone on the reservation love him, that made all the seniors at the nursing home he volunteered at think he was the greatest thing since Frank Sinatra- so I said, "Things have... changed."

"What- What do you mean?"

"Between us," I replied, my voice shaking with nervousness.

"Why?" he asked, looking genuinely concerned- maybe even afraid. "What's changed between us?"

I wasn't sure I could bring myself to say it- for all the attitude I had, I wasn't sure I had any guts.

Sam swallowed. "Is it-" he cut himself off and licked his lips nervously. "Is it because I like you?" his voice shook just the slightest bit as he asked it.

"What?" I blurted.

"I mean, is that why you've been acting so differently around me- because you found out I like you?" he asked, half-accusing.

My heart was careening out of my chest as I stared up at him in wonder. This new development was making me positively euphoric.

After a long moment where I hadn't said anything in return, Sam said, "Leah," as if trying to coax me back into the present.

But all my bravado had come back, so instead of saying anything that would ruin it, I just stood up and threw myself at him, and he hadn't let me go since.


End file.
